


Trust

by RenaiRin



Category: Persona 5
Genre: And he will get plenty, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Canon Universe, Character Study, Comfort, Coping, Dark, Depression, Horror, Hurt, Mental Health Issues, Nothing horribly bad after chapter 1 for now, Other, Panic Attacks, Trigger Warnings, Violence, lots of comfort, this boy needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-03-27 17:12:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13885365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaiRin/pseuds/RenaiRin
Summary: The truth behind the reason why Akira's parents are never quite mentioned.





	1. Trust

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work of fiction to be posted to this site. I hope you Enjoy it!  
>  **WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence in this chapter. There will be _blood_. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**  
>  This will be Multi-chapter and set within the canon universe, but with the manga name as I have deemed it to be used as the protagonist's name. Don't like it, don't have to read it in his name. Can always use Ren inside of your head. This will act like several one-shots but are all tied together in the end~  
> I will add a song to be played on LOOP during the reading of the story. I **HIGHLY ADVISE** reading the chapter to the music provided. It will set the mood. There will be no lyrics.  
>  Right click on the YouTube video and cast loop.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yX32H2hHlDg  
> I do not own the music.

It was the middle of the afternoon: between five and six, at the least. Akira had left his bedroom to slowly crawl down the stairs toward the kitchen, aiming to grab a glass of water. His eyes were sunken inward, deep purple bags underneath them. Hair disheveled even more so than usual. Black t-shirt hanging loosely off his right left shoulder, and green cargo pants much to baggy for his slender frame, wrinkled and hiding his bare feet as the seams dragged along the laminated floor. The house around him was dark; the sun was already setting in the winter sky. The windows barely caught the dull sunset, as the streams of deep orange light cascaded off the wall beside him. Shuffling his feet down the rest of the stairs, and towards the kitchen, Akira heard the voices of his parents echoing off the walls.

“What do you mean by that-“The voice of his mother was cut off abruptly.

“I mean we have to do what we must. No school will take him in! No place would ever hire him, not with that _record_.” His father hissed, his voice kept surprisingly low. _They’re whispering again_ , Akira thought to himself. A hand slammed down on a wooden surface. _They must be in the kitchen_ , he thought again. Muffled sighs broke the dead silence. Akira did not notice his own breathing had slowed, almost stopping. 

“But we can do _this_ , Saya. I love him just as much as you do. You know just as well as I that there would be nothing for him out there anymore. It doesn’t matter what he does, or what his grades are.” His father continued. 

“But you’re talking about-“

“I know. I know, Saya.” Akira heard a muffled sob escape his mother, and footsteps shuffling across the floor. Akira had stopped just shy of the partly closed door, a small sliver of light shone into the hallway beside him. He hadn’t noticed the remainder of his descent down the hallway to the door. He was curious of what they were talking about. Akira knew that his arrest put a great strain on his parents, but barely thought about what that same strain had put on _himself_. He leaned against the wall as a shadow briefly blocked the light from the door, passing by.

“We can make sure it’s quick. It wouldn’t hurt him at all.” His father’s voice only barely a whisper. A quiet whimper from his mother sounded off throughout the room. Akira shrunk back against the wall but for a moment more. _Maybe I should leave them be…_

Suddenly the door opened into the hall, and Akira flinched away from the wall in surprise. His father stood before him, a familiar face and all too familiar scent drifting into the air. Akira had his father’s eyes, steel cold grey, with a touch of red in the light. They shone into Akira’s own with a feeling of love, and in addition, something Akira couldn’t quite place. His father smiled before him, hands unfolding from their position on his chest and as he put a hand on his son’s shoulder, a smile crept on his lips.

“How’re you feeling, bud?” his father asked, looking into his son’s eyes. Akira had half a mind to look towards the floor, but knew that it wouldn’t be polite. 

“Better.”

“That’s good. I was wondering if you were going to sulk all day. Come here, we can split a soda.” His father grinned and led Akira into the kitchen, his mother on the other side of the island. Her long, wavy black hair fell around her shoulders, her black eyes still wet from tears, but the smile on her face upon seeing her son was genuine. Her hand traveled up to her wrist watch and patted it gently, a nervous tick she had for as long as Akira could remember. He thought about what they could have been talking about, but decided not to ask about it. That soda with his father did sound nice after all, who was he to ruin the moment? The father and son time they had nowadays was minimal at best. Akira returned his mothers affections, quietly allowing himself to step into the room and toward the counter. His father left his side to grab a soda from the fridge, stopping only to nod at his wife, silent cue on his part. Saya’s smile wavered, if only for a moment, before returning her gaze back to her son. 

“Hey pumpkin, how’s your day?” She asked with a mother’s love, light radiating from her voice. Akira’s mood improved some. 

“It’s okay so far. Still…processing everything.” He decided on a short but simple answer. 

“You look like a zombie. You’re not running a fever are you?” She asked, a hand reaching out after she side-stepped the counter in one swift motion, brushing against his forehead and avoiding the curly black locks of hair in her way. 

“No, mama, I’m okay.” Akira answered in a small laugh, amused that his mother was always fussing over him. He heard the sound of a fizzy _pop_ in the distance. 

“Well how about I run you a bath, okay? I’m sure you could use one.” Saya’s voice trembled a little at the end, allowing the worry to fill her voice. Her hand came to rest upon her son’s cheek, before removing itself entirely. Akira nodded, missing the warmth of her hand on his face.

“Kazuko, I’m going to start his bath. Make sure to send him after you’re both finished with that soda, okay?” Saya’s smile, for some reason, did not reach her eyes. Akira watched as she kissed his cheek, whispered a heartfelt “I love you” and for a moment too long, hugged him. She turned to her husband, a hand resting on his shoulder for a moment, before setting off toward the bathroom. Kazuko had already poured the soda into two crystal clear glasses, and with a smile, gave one to his son. Akira sat upon one of the kitchen stools and gingerly held the glass, taking a sip before looking towards his father, who hadn’t yet touched his glass. 

Kazuko’s face was tense, but he didn’t allow his current feelings to show. He noticed his son’s worried glance before taking his own glass and, for a second, gulping down a good part of it before turning Akira’s direction. 

“Everything’s going to turn out. Don’t worry. We’re here for you, Akira.” His father’s hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing just a small bit. Akira nodded, his shy smile returning to his face. 

“You know your mother and I love you, right?” His father’s face fully turned to him, a small frown replacing the smile that was once there. Akira felt his heart pang, if only for a moment. 

“I love you guys too. I never once felt like you didn’t love me, so please don’t think-“Akira’s voice cracked and his father cut off his words with a deep hug. Akira returned it, clinging onto the fabric of his father’s shirt and allowing a small sob to escape his throat. 

“We know you did the right thing Akira. We know. And we love you for it. I just wish I could have protected you better.” Kazuko’s voice never faltered, but as soon as Akira’s eyes went to look into his father’s, that same sensation filled him from before. Something was off. Kazuko noticed the tension in his son’s muscles as they reflexively locked, Akira’s hands still holding onto his father’s shirt even as his eyes looked away from his father’s glance. 

“Come on; let’s get you to that bath, huh?” Kazuko rubbed his son’s back slowly, allowing Akira’s tension to melt. Akira nodded, and a sudden feeling of relaxation came over him. He stood from the stool, his father’s hands on his shoulders as Kazuko led him away from the now-dirty glasses. One glance out of the window showed that it was finally night, the sun long faded into the black behind the trees and the only light upon the snowy ground was the moon reflecting its radiance upon it. Akira allowed his father to lead him out of the kitchen and down another hallway, different and wider than the last, where at the end a door with white, filtered light was a focus on their minds. Saya peeked out of the door, a sad smile on her face. Akira could feel himself getting very tired for some reason. 

“It’s ready, perfect temperature too.” Saya laughed, but the laugh was not genuine. It felt forced. Kazuko looked into his wife’s eyes with determination, and with a knowing glance, his son, whose eyes were drooping ever so slightly. Akira did not notice the eerie silence until the door shut behind all of them. _Why are they still in here with me?_ He thought to himself, looking around the room until his eyes rested on the white towels spread out on the floor, and a shiny metallic object upon those. It was small, almost unnoticeable without the shine from the overhead light. _What is that?_ Akira briefly wondered until he felt the strong, firm hands of his father force him forward and he almost tripped and fell, the drowsiness affecting his movement. 

“It’s kicking in I see. Good.” Saya’s voice rang throughout the room, cracking. She held her hand up to her mouth for a moment before allowing her nervous tick to kick in again. Kazuko lead his son to the bath, who, by the minute, was getting drowsier and found it hard to stay awake. 

“What’s going-“ Akira was trying to ask, before his father’s hands brought him to a sudden halt and, before picking Akira up into his arms, muttered a small “Everything’s going to be okay”. Akira’s eyes would have been wide had it not been for the drugs he figured must be in his system. After sulking all day in his room, he knew he couldn’t be this tired. Kazuko’s hands were firm yet again, as he set his son into the warm bath and held Akira’s hands close to his father’s chest. Akira looked into his father’s eyes and finally place that sensation he kept seeing there. It was sinister intent for sure. Akira felt a rush of fear ring throughout his body. He had never been afraid of his father before, but now… 

“What are you guys doing?” Akira asked tiredly, trying to focus his eyes on his father’s, and then his mothers in turn. Saya had stepped close to the bathtub, kneeling onto the floor and picking up two shiny metal objects, handing one to her husband and allowing the grimace to fall on her face. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon pumpkin. You know Mama and Papa love you right?” the squeak at the end of her sentence did not go unnoticed by her husband. He gently held her hand before turning his attention back to his son, both of Akira’s wrists in one hand. Akira’s eyes tried to focus on the object, fear suddenly filling his veins. For a brief second, the drowsiness was lifted by clarity. He gasped as his eyes focused on the razor blades in his parents hands. 

Akira desperately tried to lift himself out of the water, his wrists still held in his father’s hand. Kazuko brought his full attention to his son, handing one wrist to his wife and keeping the other for himself. Akira felt the cold touch of metal on each wrist and the words echoing from his father’s mouth were almost lost to Akira entirely. 

“Keep still; we don’t want you to feel more pain than necessary. God I wish those drugs would’ve kicked in faster.”The latter part of his plea fell to whispers as Akira flinched, eyes wet with tears as he felt the skin on both wrists being split apart. Blood pooled up and fell down the sides of his arms, the painful stinging of the open air on the wounds as well as his parents grip on his hands sending shivers through his body. Akira didn’t notice the painful noise his throat had made during the event; a mix between a sob, a cry, and a gasp. Saya’s eyes were red and tears had begun to run down her face, but she kept her composure. They still had work to do. Kazuko motioned for his wife to continue and together, they held their son’s bloodied wrists in the water, turning it tinged pink, to rose red, then scarlet. Akira’s sudden cries for them to both stop what they were dong fell on deaf ears. 

“Mama! Papa! Why?” Tears fell down his face and the sting of the warm water mixing with the fresh cuts did not go unnoticed. He desperately tried to thrash about: wriggling in his parent’s strong grasps, he could feel his mother’s nails digging into his skin. His father’s grip was so tight it would leave bruising later on, if he were still alive by then. Fear and anger and confusion wracked his tired brain. The sloshing of the water fell over the edge of the bath, staining the white towels a sickening pink and red color. Saya and Kazuko’s expression ranging from startled to firm, determined frowns. They both cooed their son to calm down, promising their love for him, and how everything would be over soon. 

He suddenly kicked out, a small amount of adrenaline outweighing the heavy tired feeling Akira felt. He swiftly kicked his father back, a surprised grunt filling the room and one hand finally free from his parents grasp. Saya gasped, desperately trying to push her son back into the water, a fair fight for them both. The fearful adrenaline filling Akira’s system was a match for her own adrenaline, but not from fear, but determination to follow through the sinful course of action. He felt her warm body press against this own as his shouts and cries went unheard yet again. _Why! Why is this happening?_ His thoughts echoed in his head. 

“What did I do wrong! Please! _Stop it!_ ” Akira’s throat felt course and every new scream and shout only left it feeling worse. Now his drowsiness was not because of the drug in his system, but because of the massive amount of blood he had now lost. The red water was still being tossed about in, the floor now a mess of red and pink and his clothes clutching to his skin fell heavy and smelled of iron and salt. He could hear the water thrashing about, see his mother struggling to keep him held down, her own fresh tears adding to the mix of stimulus caking the air’s atmosphere. Kazuko had finally recovered from his winding, scurrying back to the bath and replacing his hands onto Akira’s shoulders, one hand snaking down to the free wrist Akira had been trying so hard to pull himself out of the water with. All three of them were covered in the bloody bath water, struggling against one another and a whole new wave of emotion and tension bled throughout the room. Saya’s quiet gasps and cries, Kazuko’s pleas for his son to stop fighting, and Akira’s muffled cries of fear, pain, and utter betrayal laced the room in a seemingly permanent melody.

Soon the water was a dark cherry color, in contrast to the white porcelain bathtub. Akira’s cries of pain died down to mere whimpers. Kazuko held his son close to him, rocking back and forth and whispering soft words of comfort into his son’s ear. Saya was still grasping onto Akira’s hand, keeping it below the water’s surface all the while staring shakily into the dulling eyes of her son. She leaned close to him, borderline entering the bath with him, as a soft sob escaped her throat. 

“I’m so sorry Akira, I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate us, please, please, _please_.” Saya sobbed into her son’s shoulder. She felt the hand of her husband on her own shoulder, and Akira’s whimpers fell silent. His eyes had closed, finally passing out from the blood loss, the fear he once had now hidden behind unhealthy pale lids. His face was beyond white, enough so you could see the blue veins beneath his skin; a stark contrast to his ebony hair that clung to his head and neck in haphazard fashion. Scarlet water droplets surrounded his body and clothes, running down his face, arms, and throat, along with his own parent’s skin. It seemed to be everywhere. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, _their own sons face._

Saya cried out deeply, a sharp noise filling the air as her howls of pain and betrayal echoed throughout the room. She felt the hands of her husband holding her close, and she clutched to her son’s black shirt, bloody water leaking out as she squeezed it hard. Kazuko’s eyes soon clouded over in the vain attempt to realize what they had both done. The two parents were so lost in their own grief they failed to notice the sound of sirens in the front of their house, loud knocking on the front door; their son still breathing, if only barely. The ticking of Saya’s wristwatch sounded out into the room but was largely ignored. Outside of the small bathroom window, where no one was looking, the moon’s light was clouded over, and darkness fell upon world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will add trigger warning tags to all of my chapters as they are deemed needed.  
> Please do not hesitate to inform me of any grammatical errors, since I am transitioning this from Microsoft Word to this site. Not everything moves over smoothly!  
> Comments are appreciated! Thank you for reading my story!  
> I will update as often as I am able to!


	2. Take It Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does one deal with a tragic event and trauma in a new city, far from home?
> 
> Well, what _used_ to be home anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: Graphic descriptions of _Panic Attacks/Mental Health_ Issues. Minor injury. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Song for this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fn-LdGEVZFk 
> 
> Right-click video for loop. I do not own the music. There are no lyrics.
> 
> IT IS **HIGHLY ADVISED** to read the chapters WITH the song. **_It will set the mood._**
> 
> Thank you and enjoy the chapter.

“Hey kid.” The worn voice of an older man, in his thirties or forties, rang throughout the café, thick with annoyance. Akira shifted his weight from his right leg to his left, cautiously looking up from the floor. The warm air of the café permeated his skin; still taking it’s time to adjust to the sudden temperature change from outside. Even through the black school uniform blazer, the chill of early spring got to him in no time flat, even if he had been on the subways most of the trek back to his new home. The older man stared at Akira, almost as if expecting a reply but knowing he wasn’t going to get one. Akira tried his best to keep eye contact with his new caretaker, even if his mind was itching to run up the stairs of the café and hide. He still found his new guardian to be a bit frightening compared to his real parents. It was irony at its finest.

“You have time to help out around here? It’s Sunday tomorrow, yeah? Should have plenty of time to get studying in if you help me out for now.”

Akira nodded his head. He knew Sakura-san was going to ask sooner or later, and he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of helping out around the café. But the one thing that was nagging at the back of his mind was how much Sakura-san knew about prior events. Sure, he knew about the arrest and the probation. That was a given, considering the situation, but did he know about anything else from that? Would he want to talk to Akira about those things? If so, Akira wanted nothing to do with it. He was already borderline-mute as is. He didn’t need to be forced into talking about a topic he was trying so desperately to _forget._

Then again, it wasn’t so hard considering the first day of school he had just a week prior…

“Okay then. Go ahead and change into something comfortable, then come back down and I’ll show you what I’m having you do.” Sakura-san gestured toward the stairs, his eyes darting to them for a brief moment before he turned back to the bar, fiddling with something behind the counter. Akira started for the stairs, hands still in his pockets, and barely looking to see exactly where his feet were taking him. He just wanted to do as he was told and get this over with. _’Mechanical’_ would be an appropriate word for his actions once he finally climbed the stairs. Akira set his school bag down on the floor near his makeshift bed, before turning towards the cardboard box that housed his clothing. He pulled out a pair of blue jeans and tossed them on the discolored rusty couch next to himself. Soon to follow would be a long sleeved, off beige sweater. He barely thought about his movements as he swiftly changed clothes, face void of emotion and mind blank. Just one more thing he had to do in order to survive Tokyo. _That is, if I’m not already going crazy first._

It still bothered him to no end his room was the attic of the café. No door to keep someone, anyone, from barging in and seeing him undress. _What would they think_ , he thought to himself, _if they saw the scars?_ In the end Akira supposed it didn’t matter. Nobody had to know, not even Sakura-san (that is, if he didn’t know _already_ ), and who was he to complain? Akira only barely got this chance at a fresh start because of the café owner taking him in when he needed it. If not for his guardian then Akira would have been toast for sure. He quickly shook the thoughts of potential alternative outcomes from his mind and continued to toss layers of cotton to the floor. As soon as he was settled, he took one last look toward the cardboard box, then back at himself in the small mirror off to the cluttered side of his room, feeling his fake glasses starting to slip down his nose. He still wasn’t used to them yet. Pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose, he sighed before heading downstairs, troubled thoughts in tow.

By then, Sakura-san and been waiting for only a couple of minutes, but he made the best out of the time by filling the sink up with warm, soapy water to the one side occupied by dishes. Akira had only just rounded the corner and noticed the sink before turning his gaze at Sakura-san, before the older man tossed a long, green apron his direction. Akira caught it with ease, thanks to the few months he had of physical therapy allowing him to have strength in his hands again, before shuffling the garment onto himself in a timely but haphazard fashion. Sakura-san pointed towards the dishes before sighing once more.

“I just need you to work on these for now. Lemme know when you’re done, alright?’ Sakura-san shook his head slightly, resting a hand on the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Yes, sir.” Akira replied in monotone. He quickly began to start upon the dishes, settling himself in front of the sink before reaching into the sudsy water, fishing around for the dish towel that was trapped within. It didn’t take him long to find, but once he did, he felt a hand land on his shoulder and flinched away, turning towards the culprit.

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you how to do dishes kid? You gotta roll up your sleeves or they’ll get wet.” A sigh escaped Sakura-san’s lips yet again. Akira was flustered to say the least, looking down briefly at his slightly wet shirt sleeve before turning towards his caretaker yet again.

“Do I have to…?” Akira trailed off nervously, keeping his gaze on Sakura-san only for a second before allowing it to fall to the floor. He heard another sigh waft through the air.

“Why, you like ruining your clothes that way? It’s just the way you do things at a restaurant, don’t want people getting sick from eating here after all.” Akira felt a hand approach his own, and he felt himself pulling further away, backing into the edge of the ceramic sink.

“But-“

“No ‘buts’, it’s just a shirt sleeve kid. What? You got something you’re hiding under there or-“Sakura-san cut himself off after his attempt to pull up the left sleeve and show Akira the proper way to do it, Akira pulled his hands behind his back, a dark look suddenly appearing on his face, and his eyes hidden by the shadow of his curly raven colored hair.

“Please.” Akira begged, his eyes still trained on the floor. The tension was so thick in the air around himself, he likened he would’ve been able to cut it with a knife. Sakura-san just stared at Akira, a worried expression plastered onto his face. He raised his hands to his hips, leaning back a little before talking.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of _those_ kids or something.”

“…it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like? Do you have something you need to tell me, because I’m not going to stand here all day and argue with you over proper dish washing etiquette!”

“It’s nothing.” Akira’s voice had been louder than he intended it to be, he felt eyes piercing into him but kept his gaze on the floor.

“Don’t give me attitude; just do as I say, kid.” Sakura-san, in an annoyed and frustrated tone, reached out and grabbed one of Akira’s wrists from behind the boy, causing him to flinch and try and pull away. Akira’s eyes grew wide and a mumbled “Let go!” escaped his lips but was not heard, or at least, ignored. Sakura-san yanked the sleeve upward and for a brief moment did not notice the new, straight, shiny scar on the underside of Akira’s wrist. As soon as he glanced down, he stopped dead in his tracks. A sudden range of facial expressions- from surprised to saddened, to angry and frustrated- cascaded over his face before staring Akira dead in the eyes, demanding attention and refusing any other stimuli that would cause distraction. Akira wanted desperately to break the contact; of another hand gripping his wrist tightly in an attempt to make sure the child did not break free, and he suddenly felt lightheaded at the thought that the grip on himself was same as his father’s iron grip from before. Akira felt his legs sway beneath him, so he leaned onto the edge of the sink, in a pathetic attempt to keep his balance. His own eyes would not dare to break contact with Sakura-san’s own flared ones even as the tension in the room rose to all new levels of dangerously high.

“The hell is this? You said you weren’t-“

“I’m not! Let me go!” Akira struggled to free his wrist, the grip tightening and a wince fell from his lips before he could even hold it back.

“Then explain to me what the hell this is!” Sakura-san’s voice grew louder. Even though there wasn’t anyone in the café at the moment, being only a little past dinner time, Akira could have sworn there were eyes staring at the commotion from a distance. His skin was crawling with goose bumps from the venom that dripped from his guardian’s words. How could he ever explain _this_?

“They didn’t mean it!” Akira’s own voice grew louder and he internally berated himself for allowing it to happen. He half-expected to get slapped across the face for making such a scene and he knew it, but wanted desperately to escape the iron grip holding onto his wrist. He tried in vain to grasp Sakura-san’s hand, but the vice grip he had his wrist in was too strong for Akira to break. He felt himself being dragged away from the sink a few feet before Sakura-san’s voice demanded his attention, eyes glaring daggers into his own and with a small whimper he held those eyes, in all their cold, fiery rage.

“What do you mean? Who did this to you!?” Akira felt that, if the rage and tension were any thicker, he would suffocate.

“Nobody, please just let-“ Akira tried again to escape the vice grip but the free hand he had was snatched by Sakura-san’s own, before he was pulled close to his new guardian and begrudgingly forced to look up into those eyes again.

“Tell. Me. Who did this?” Akira felt as if the world was falling out from under his feet. His breathing had already become ragged to the point of panic. He felt his body trying in vain to shrink away and cave in on itself. The world started spinning slightly and the grip on his wrists would not let go. He was reminded of his father and mother again, pushing him down and keeping him in the bloody water as his cries went unheard. Sakura-san noticed the sudden change in behavior and against his better judgment, kept the grip on Akira if only to keep the kid grounded from falling over. His skin had turned an unhealthy shade of white and Akira could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, drowning out his guardian’s words as they echoed off the walls of the café.

“Kid! Hey, answer me. Akira!” At the sound of his name, his eyes snapped to Sakura-san’s which had gone from angry to worried within a few seconds, the grip loosening around Akira’s wrists just enough he could pull his hands free before his knees buckled underneath him. He held his hands close to his chest and through his own ragged breathing; he could hear Sakura-san calling his name. Sakura-san surely did not know what exactly set this off, but Akira was sure he had his own idea of why. It was one of the only things running through the teen’s head that was coherent enough to pull him even slightly from his delirium. _A panic attack...?_

Sakura-san tried to pull Akira to his feet by his shoulders, but as soon as Akira felt the fingers brush against his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, he flinched back and yelled out.

“ ** _Don’t touch me!_** ” the teen was unsure he had ever snapped at someone like that before. It surprised him to sound so exasperated, so broken. _It hurts_ , he thought to himself.

“Easy, kid. Easy.” Sakura-san pulled away, holding his hands in front of his chest in a ‘calm down’ motion. He made sure Akira’s gaze was on his hands, before making sure to move them slowly. No sudden movements. It made Akira ease the tension in his muscles, if only a little. Knowing exactly where the hands were going helped. He tried his best not to flinch when they landed on his shoulders a second time, and allowed himself to be lifted to his feet. Breathing frantically, his shaky legs wobbled as he walked the laminated hard wood floor, and he could hear a sigh of hesitation as Sakura-san led him to one of the mahogany booth seats in the café.

Akira clutched the leather strap of the wristwatch on his left arm, trying his best to ground his thoughts in reality. More memories and sharp cries of pain rung out in his ears, yet there was nobody there. The café was silent aside from the heavy breathing of a panicked teen and the ticking of a clock on the wall. He could feel something wet drip down his face, but what he thought was tears was the bloody bathwater that had soaked his hair, one more drip onto the floor. He was losing it, surely. The raven-haired boy gripped the edge of the table in a feeble attempt to snap himself out of it. When that didn’t work, his right hand which was setting shakily in his lap began to curl, digging fingernails into flesh. A sharp hiss left his lips when he felt the pain. It did nothing to pull him from his nightmare. 

“Hey, are you gonna tell me what’s going on? You having panic attack or something?” Sakura-san scratched the back of his neck, slightly panicking himself, before quickly grabbing a glass of water and setting it in front of the boy. He took the seat opposite Akira in the booth and after seeing the child’s ragged breathing, reached out and set his hands on the table leaning his upper body over to better face the boy. Akira was still reeling from the sudden flux of emotions running their course though his head. _Calm down_ , he thought frantically. Memories replayed inside of his head and he felt warm streams of tears flowing down his face, an exasperated sigh leaving the lips of the older man.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The older man mumbled under his breath, and Akira shook his head and gripped his fist harder. Something warm and fluid started to pool and drip from his hand. When he looked down, he noticed he punctured the skin. More blood to add to his dream. Eyes widening, his heartbeat grew faster. Sakura-san was quick to notice the scene, muttering a small ‘oh shit’ before bolting out of his seat and grabbing a hand towel from the counter, practically running back to try and shove it into Akira’s hand. The boy, however, flinched back as he was stuck between the man in front of him and the father he thought he could trust. They seemed to jumble together in his vision and distorted sounds erupted from the confusion. Akira was not quite sure where he was anymore, but the sound of his name being called caught his attention.

“Akira! Here, let me-“The hand with the towel reached out and tried again to catch the bleeding flesh, but only succeeded in causing Akira to back further into the booth. The teen had pulled his legs up and rested his feet on the booth, trying to even the distance between himself and the guardian. A disgruntled sigh leapt out of the amalgamation of Kazuko and Sakura-san. Akira could feel the bloody water on his skin again and he saw the café start to fill with it. It rose from the floor slowly, leaving a sticky coating on the front of the counter. Akira pulled his knees to his chest and his breathing intensified, he closed his eyes tightly and clutched at the side of his head. The sound of water dripping in the distance only sent shivers down his spine. It took a while to realize he had been muttering words under his ragged breaths.

“Stop it.” The voice was filled with fear and concern. How long was this going to last? Would Akira be swallowed up in the waves of scarlet water? Would he drown in it? Nothing made sense and his hand was beginning to hurt, he could feel the sticky substance smear onto his hair and face. He wanted to care but found what he was seeing a bit too extreme, too extreme to make sense of anything. Was he even really bleeding? Was he even really _there?_

Strange discorded words rung out into the air from the person in front of him. They were laced with worry but Akira could swear he heard Sakura-san and Kazuko’s voices. He still shut his eyes and when he felt a hand on his arm he lashed out violently. He opened his eyes only to aim his gaze at Sakura-san's. His father wasn’t there anymore, and Akira wasn’t sure if he should be glad or worried. For a split second time slowed, his vision was starting to fade slightly, blurring at the edges. It took a moment to realize a hand was being offered to him. Palm open, facing upwards. Sakura-san was trying his best to stay calm, but his worried expression bled into his voice when he spoke.

“It’s okay; it’s going to be fine.” The words broke through the silence and Akira’s world slowed to a sharp halt. The water stopped rising, which was already at waist level, and his eyes made silent contact with his guardian’s. Finally taking heed of the hand in front of him, he made a bold reach for it. At first, he thought about turning him away. Who in their right mind would want to calm down a potentially crazy kid? Trusting adults never turned out well for him in any case. Akira certainly did not want to do so now. But he needed something to ground him in reality, and for better or worse, began clutching the hand in front of him, noticing the difference between his own shaking hands and the warmth and stability of the one he held onto.

Akira gripped tightly onto the hand, and felt himself being pulled forward. The towel made its way to the side of his face. He could still feel the blood there, but was unsure of which blood it was; the bathwater or the kind from his injured hand? His mind was still running wild. But he didn’t forget the warm hand that was gripping his own, gently. It was reassuring, if nothing else.

Akira needed that.

“Akira, calm down. Everything will be okay.” The man before him cooed, voice soothing and gentle. Akira had not heard this tone of voice from Sakura-san before. He almost thought the man could not have such a voice. For a split second, he thought it was someone else entirely. The towel moved down and was placed into his open right hand. Warm, slender fingers curled around his own and he winced when the towel rubbed the wrong way against the open wounds.

“I-I...c-can’t…” Akira tried to hash out words, but to no avail; his own hyperventilating affecting his speech. The gentle hand holding his own squeezed once, before a body had re-positioned itself in front of the boy, grasping him to their chest in a warm embrace. The motion wasn’t so sudden that Akira flinched back, but he did whimper into the cold air.

“Breathe. Don’t talk, just breathe.” A soft voice whispered in his ear, and Akira nodded into the shoulder of the man. For a few seconds, his mind was at a complete blank. He then noticed the gentle heartbeat beneath the warmth and tried to match that beat with the rhythm of his breathing. It was difficult at first, small sobs and hiccups escaping his throat that he did not notice were there before, and a gentle swirling motion of a hand on his back helped to melt away his fears, the tension soon leaving his muscles.

Soon, Akira’s breathing began to match that of Sakura-san’s. The ebb and flow of their respective heartbeats synced, and finally, Akira began to relax in the man’s arms. Sakura-san murmured easy goings and praise into the young man’s ear, earning a small mewl in response. 

“I’m sorry…” The raspy, broken voice trailed off. Akira was still clinging to Sakura-san, afraid to let go lest the voices and memories return to him once more. The water had already dissipated into nothing, leaving only the memory of the blood-stained café. It still sent shivers down his spine.

“Don’t be, I should’ve known better. Just rest for now.” The older man sighed, showing rare signs of apology. Akira chose to follow his advice, and continued to relax and calm himself down. Soon the only sound in the café was the ticking of the wall clock and the smells of coffee beans rooted Akira back to reality. The warm embrace from his new caregiver was welcome and endearing. Akira closed his eyes for a few seconds, taking it all in before letting out a shallow, steady breath. He pulled away from Sakura-san slowly, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he was ready to let go of the older man yet. The grip of the towel in Akira’s hand loosened, and the stained cloth draped into his lap. He hadn’t realized he was still holding it.

Finally, the guardian sighed and settled himself back into the seat next to Akira, folding his arms over his chest lightly. Akira’s own hands settled into his lap, tugging at the edges of the sleeves, before finally looking toward Sakura-san and making eye contact.

“Are you okay?” The older man asked, voice soft and gentle, with a tinge of worry.

“…I am now. Thank you.” A pause, before another small sigh.

“Is it okay for you to talk about it now? I didn’t mean to freak you out earlier.” Akira didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to forget it ever happened, but after his little episode, he knew there was no way out of it. He nodded, before fiddling with the watch on the inside of his left wrist, beneath the sleeve of the sweater.

“You know how I was taken away from my real parents, right?”

Sakura-san paused before nodding, tilting his head to the side.

“They did that.” Akira breathed out, as if he couldn’t trust the words leaving his own mouth. Sakura-san paled for a moment, before a short huff left his body. He reached up to rest a hand on the back of his neck again before speaking.

“Your parents did that to you?” Why?” The voice that came out sounded exhausted, twenty years older than it should have been.

“…”Akira stalled, breaking eye contact and looking towards the table. Sakura-san wanted specifics? The teen hesitated. He felt himself falling back into that world again, the one inside of his head. His glasses slid forward yet again and he, with a shaking hand, reached up and fixed their position. A few seconds passed afterward that felt like eternity passing by. _What would he think if I told him? Is he going to kick me out for being too much trouble?_ Akira asked himself, already shifting through the various possibilities if such a thing were to happen. Sakura-san sighed, figuring that was going to be as good as the answers get for the time being, before pressing his finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, jostling his glasses a bit.

“Sorry, kid. They never told me anything like that, they just-“He cut himself off, seemingly choosing his words, “its okay to keep your sleeves down for now. I got an idea, but it’s gonna have to wait ‘till later.”

Akira stared at the man, expecting to be berated, or at least scolded for losing his composure in his café, which was _still_ open. He counted his lucky stars and fumbled around the length of his arm for the wristwatch again; caressing it until he was satisfied it wasn’t going anywhere. Sakura-san gingerly rose from his seat and went behind the bar, fishing around for a minute before coming back to the table with a first aid kit. Akira flushed a humble shade of red in embarrassment. He had forgotten about his hand entirely whilst trying not to fall back inside of his head. Finally, he turned his attention to the largely ignored glass of water, downing it in a few gulps before focusing on his guardian, who was already shifting through various bandages and ointments. A glance from his guardian told him to rest his hand on the table. Eventually, he nodded in agreement, to which Sakura-san was expecting, raising the sore flesh and wincing when a wet mesh was brushed against it.

“Ow…” Akira grimaced when the flesh began to sting, like salt was being poured into the wound. Sakura-san just calmly continued to clean the small little cuts, making sure to clear the blood out of the way before he wrapped a trail of gauze around the hand, securing the fabric around the wrist. Akira flinched when the fingers of the older man brushed against his scar, and it didn’t go unnoticed. A sigh left the older man and he sounded much older for his age when the finished wrapping the wound.

“You’re off the hook for now. Can’t be doing dishes when your hand is hurt and all.” The man hid his gaze under his glasses, fishing through the first aid kit once more. Akira pulled his hand away, rubbing at the gauze and feeling the ache of his wounds under the mesh. He nodded in agreement, feeling far too tired after the event. A awkward silence filled the air and Akira turned back to the older man, before realizing a hand had reached up to his face and started wiping away tear stains underneath his eyes. A soft, gentle touch of cotton cloth soothed his skin. He wanted to melt into that warmth again, but refrained if only to keep himself awake. He felt flustered and embarrassed of how easily he broke in front of this man. He had never had a panic attack before, and it scared him to know he could have one again. Akira sighed into the air and felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder.

“You must be tired. Go on up to bed, I think you deserve a little rest. We’ll talk about this-“Sakura-san gestured, waving his free hand around in the air, “Later.”

 _Wonderful_ , Akira thought, following his guardian out of the booth to gingerly walk up the stairs, tossing his apron onto it's hook in the process. As soon as he was out of sight from Sakura-san he felt his heart beat a little faster. They were going to have to talk about the ‘episode’ he just had. Akira curled up into his bed and stared at the ceiling. How was he going to explain what happened? The teen himself did not know what was happening. Was he going crazy or..? Akira sighed, tossing his glasses off and onto the shelf beside his bed.

_It’s going to be a long day tomorrow, isn’t it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This chapter was originally very different, but I re-wrote it to better fit the theme of the story. It was worth it!
> 
> Again if there are any grammar errors or mistakes, feedback will be appreciated!


	3. Rewind To Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding solace in something was never his strong suit, but that didn't mean it wasn't familiar when he allowed his fingers to caress the edge of the keyboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs to be **_looped_** for this chapter. **RIGHT CLICK TO LOOP.**
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TFTCOUzjlEQ -Beginning snipit
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvxOmcTfNNM-The rest of chapter (you know this is the one when you hear it.) **Turn up your volume for this song, it is kinda quiet.**
> 
> Kudos if you guessed where the second song originates from without looking it up.

Akira sat upon the bed, rubbing sleep from his still-tired eyes. In the shock and confusion emanating from last night’s events, he hadn’t gotten much sleep. The thought of having yet another ‘episode’ tug at his already torn heartstrings. He didn’t want to go through such a thing again, seeing the bloody water filling up his vision and drowning him in memories he was trying his hardest to repress. Even the thought of having to tell his caregiver about what _happened_ , why he had those _scars_ ….it was a lot to process. So when the raven-haired boy finally fell asleep at some ungodly hour of the early morning, he didn’t want to wake when he felt a gentle hand shaking his shoulder. Alas, he did so anyway, opening his tired eyes to see the familiar face of Sakura-san above him.

“Hey, kid. You slept in pretty late.” The small smile that tugged at the older man’s lips did not go unnoticed by the young man.

“…Morning” he yawned, stretching his arms out above him, before feeling a slight burn in his right hand. He recoiled and stared down at the bandages that wrapped it.

_Oh._

He had forgotten about that; his injury the night before. A small flush covered his face before he looked back up at his guardian, who just shook his head lightly.

“Let’s get that changed.” Akira could only nod his head as Sakura-san pulled over the chair sitting at the wooden table in his room. Upon the shelf next to his bed was the first aid kit. His guardian had planned for this, apparently.

Akira stared at his hand for a second, and after Sakura-san had opened the kit and dug around for a minute, allowed his hand to rest in his caregiver’s when prompted to do so. He felt the gauze being unwrapped slowly as the dreaded words left his guardian’s mouth.

“So, about last night-”

_Here we go._

“Do you feel comfortable talking about it now?” Akira hung his head off to the side, avoiding eye contact. Of course he didn’t feel like talking about it. He never wanted to talk about it for the rest of his life, if he could get away with such a thing. But his guardian needed answers, and Akira was the only one who could give them.

“No…but I don’t have a choice in the matter, right?” The teen watched as the older man stared at him for a second, mild shock across his face. He supposed it was because the ravenette had said more than one word in reply.

“It would help me get to know you better, if that makes you any less nervous.” Akira blinked. He thought it might, even though he didn’t know much about his caregiver in the first place. All he knew was that this man was going to house him for the year. Realization struck that the same concept applied to him. The soiled cloth left his hand completely, and the older man tore open a packet of antiseptic to be applied to the wound.

“…Okay. What do you want to know?” Akira hoped it wouldn’t be anything too deep yet.  With what happened yesterday still fresh on his mind, he glanced into his caregivers eyes. The soft, steel grey reflected back from the charcoal ones he looked into.

“Was that the first time? The panic attack.” Akira flinched when the mesh pad was pressed into the small cuts, clenching his jaw when one of the particularly deep ones was disinfected.

“Yeah. It was…new.” He sighed in relief when the pad was discarded and the new gauze packet was opened. Sakura-san eyes never left the wounded hand in front of him.

“Alright then. Have you ever talked to anybody about this? Like a therapist or-“ Akira flinched back at the word.

“No, no. They never….I’ve only talked about it with you.” He could feel the air becoming ten degrees colder, and his breathing slowed to a crawl. The teen felt his heart beat pulsate through his ears as the older man looked up, directly into Akira’s eyes.

“Mhm. Have you ever thought about seeing one?” Akira could practically hear his walls cracking.

“No. Never.” A sigh left Sakura-san’s lips as the silence filled the room.

“I think you should look into it. I’m not saying you need one or anything, but I’m no expert at these kinds of things. I can’t even get-“ Sakura-san cut himself off, sighing and resting his hand on the back of his neck. The gauze still hung half wrapped around Akira’s hand. “I’m just saying if you need to talk to someone about it, then that’s the best place to start.”

Akira only nodded his head, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. That was a good idea, if it wasn't scaring Akira half to death in order to think it. He honestly thought it would be better not talking about it at all. It took him a second to notice the guardian wanted a sound answer. “Okay.”

“Good. In the meantime, just let me know if something sets you off. I don’t need you freaking out in the middle of my café.” Akira looked down at the bed once more, allowing the older man to finish wrapping the gauze. He pulled his hand back and flexed it, turning his hand over and making sure it was a comfortable fit.

“Alright.”

Sakura-san straightened in his chair, one more sigh leaving his lips.

“Okay then. I’m heading back downstairs-if you’re going to go out or study you’d better decide before a customer shows up.” And with that, the older man stood up and started for the stairs.

____________________________________________________________

The soft rays of unfiltered sunlight seeped through the glass door at the front of Leblanc, the spring afternoon sun setting in the distance. Akira fiddled with his wristwatch unknowingly behind the counter, allowing his fingers to brush themselves back and forth on the black leather strap holding it in place on his wrist; the ticking of the old wooden clock on the back wall in sync with that of his own watch. He waited patiently behind the counter, looking around gracefully for something, anything to do in order to pass time. Fluttering his gaze around the front of the café, where empty, dull cherry booth seats highlighted in orange rays of light sat idle, and where he could see no signs of movement from the outside world in their gentle light; he waited. The boy sighed to himself, alone in the café once again as with no customers, and no guardian to keep him company. Again. Akira allowed his hand to fall from its spot caressing the wristwatch, tugging at the soft, green fabric of his apron again. _What’s taking so long?..._ he thought to no one but himself.

In his boredom he went through recent events in his head. Sakura-san had abruptly left the café in charge of his ward nearly as soon as Akira had stepped into Leblanc for the day. It wasn’t an issue, of course. Things like this were the norm around here, especially when Sakura-san had one of many sudden phone calls and had to excuse himself. But that day, there were no phone calls. Hell, there hadn’t even been a customer when Akira walked in from the slightly chilly air outside. There still had been no one to enter since his caregiver left. Sakura-san was barely restraining himself from _running_ out of the café as soon as Akira has replied to him. And so, here the boy was; bored, alone, caught up in his own tired thoughts before he noticed the glinting rays of sunlight fading and the once orange booth seats fading back to their dull crimson again. It would be night soon. Akira sighed once more. _At this rate, I’ll drive myself mad._

Akira started patting his fingers unconsciously on his thigh, mimicking a song he had learned a long time ago. He hadn’t noticed his pacing until he nearly caught the edge of his hip on the counter, frowning before turning towards the stairs. Even that obnoxiously annoying cat that Akira had been stuck with was nowhere to be found. Morgana pounced (quite literally) at the chance to go off on his own for a bit, saying something akin to “I need to stretch my legs a little.”  It wasn’t exactly like Akira got a lot of time away from the damn thing, considering he had to carry it with him everywhere. It still felt…lonely though, even when Morgana was around. Akira wouldn’t exactly call them ‘close’, but alas, you can’t exactly make best friends right off the bat with a _talking cat_.

Akira huffed out of frustration. He wanted to have someone around, yet even when people were right there in front of him, he still felt like an outsider. Ryuji and Ann were great, to be fair, and he enjoyed the time he spent with the two blondes, but some distinct nagging part of himself was always there telling him he was a l o n e. Pondering any further would only serve to make him feel worse about his situation, and before he knew it, he had already flipped the sign on the front door to ‘closed’, yanking at the ties on his apron before tossing it on its hook in the kitchen. It was already five o’clock, and he figured Sakura-san would not mind at all about the early close so long as, if he had to, explain himself. Akira headed up the stairs and briefly turned the corner at the top right as a sudden glint of shimmering light blinded him. His hands flew in front of his glasses, a grimace only appearing for a split second before he adjusted himself, out of the way of the light. The windows near his bed still held the late afternoon sun within themselves, and before he knew it he saw amongst the clutter and disarray of the backroom the bright white picture of a keyboard.

Akira felt his breathing hitch, only for a moment though, before he repositioned himself so that he was a close as he could be towards what he assumed were his eyes playing tricks on him. The wooden railing dug into his stomach as he peered over the edge, trying desperately to get a better look. Was it a keyboard? Why would such a thing be in the far back of this attic? He crooned his head to the side, before deciding to sort through all the junk in his way. The boy made his way around the railing, before placing his hands on all the assorted junk and material in his way.

Akira never noticed exactly how _big_ the attic that doubled as his room was. He knew there was a sizable chunk of space where most of the clutter had taken over, right behind where the stairs met the floor. But he never knew exactly what had been there, aside from the things he could pick out of his peripheral vision. He never exactly wondered about such things in this specific spot before. It never crossed his mind to check on such things. Soon he was moving junk and _more_ junk out of his way, not caring where each piece landed on the squeaking, wooden floor. He inched his way to the keys, hiding beneath a table and chairs, stacked randomly in the way. Old cloth bags were strewn about everywhere, hanging like cobwebs from various objects. A lamp was bent and stood crooked, leaning against an old wooden bookcase. He carefully shifted these items out of the way, and as soon as the last few bags were moved, he had a good view of what those keys belonged to. He gasped, eyes widening in awe.

In the corner of this space, a baby grand piano had sat hidden in the dusty, cluttered attic. The sheen on the varnish had almost completely dulled, and some keys were turning an ugly yellow color. But as Akira ran his fingers across the keyboard, he felt little to no staining, or dust for that matter. _Must’ve been those cotton bags…_ he thought to himself. Out of curiosity, he tapped his finger down on one of the beige keys, a light ringing sound emitting into the room. Smiling, he propped a chair in front of the wonderful discovery and blew any dust he did find off the keyboard. At the motion of his glasses sliding down his face, he furled his brow and took them off, setting the glasses on top of the piano’s surface. If anything, he wouldn’t need to worry about the setting sunlight reflecting off of them again. Quickly he started testing to make sure each key made the proper sound, and low and behold, every key was in perfect tuning as well. His smile brightened, thanking whatever part of the universe had given him this small miracle.

Akira thought to himself, humming aloud at which piece he wanted to play. Beethoven was always good, but he much preferred something lighter. Out of all the different pianists and musicians that rang through his head, he decided to toss aside the musicians themselves, and just play a piece he had ringing in his head all day. Gingerly, he placed his fingers in their proper positions, breathing a deep and shaky sigh before composing himself, pressing the keys before him with grace and tranquility.

Akira could never exactly place _when_ he learned piano. He knew his mother, Saya, had been wonderful at it. She must have taught him from a very young age as, for a long as he could remember, he could play and every time he did, his mother would smile her brightest, most mesmerizing smile she could. It fueled many of his adventures in learning to play difficult pieces, if he could just see her smile _like that_. His fingers flew across the keyboard, increasing their pace and speed. The solemn melody filled the air, and though the song itself was not quite sad, nor was it happy, it still filled Akira to the brim of emotion. At first he had started slow, a small fear in the back of his mind of Sakura-san running into him mid-song, but he soon drowned his fears in ecstatic elation. His face melted into a soft, relaxed expression. He could almost feel his mother’s warm hand on his shoulder, her whispers echoing into his ear of praise, and he closed his eyes and breathed in calmly. His heart panged and he knew he should not feel this way, not anymore, certainly not after what had transpired in the winter; but he wanted so desperately to feel her touch again, if not hers then _anyone’s_. He wanted to no longer feel alone, trapped in his own mind and feeling his ties to other people hitch and snap upon one another.

The tempo soon slowed, and before he knew it he had been playing the rest of the piece with his eyes closed. Such emotion and grace, knowing exactly what key need to be played and when, had never flowed this freely from himself before. Akira knew this piece well, it was one of his favorites after all, but only this one brought him the loving embrace he had been seeking. It was as close as he was going to get to what he wanted, and _god_ did he want to see her again, even if he knew how crazy it sounded in his head. He wanted to feel her gentle, motherly embrace one more time but even he knew that it was far beyond possible now.

Akira finished the piece in slow, steady fashion. Before he knew it his eyes were open, peering at his hands and he could feel the warm, wet tears that had fallen down his face splashing on them. When had he started crying? He did not know the answer. Akira allowed his eyes to flutter for a few seconds, clearing away the last of the blur from the tears and gently sweeping under his left eye with one hand, letting it linger for a second too long, before he heard a small, content sigh behind him.

Akira nearly bolted out of the chair as he whipped his head around to see Sakura-san standing near the railing of the stairs. He had been staring at Akira with an amazed look on his face, bewildered and yet satisfied. A slow clap sounded out and a small “wow” escaped his lips. His guardian was smiling at him, and he noticed a small glimmer in the eyes that stared at him in such amazement. Had he been driven to tears? Was Akira driven to them as well? Akira’s head was spinning and before he knew it, he was rubbing at his eyes frantically as well as stepping away from the piano, almost tripping over clutter as he felt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

“A-Ah, um…It’s...It’s not wha-“ Akira was stuttering hopelessly, not sure himself what he was trying to say.

“It was beautiful.” The older man replied, his voice quiet and endearing.

Akira stared at the man for a moment, before trying another approach.

“When did you….?”

“I’ve been here since you started. Just got back and-oh, yeah. This.” Sakura-san held his hand out, a small shopping bag dangling from it. Akira looked at the bag, then his guardian’s face, then back to the bag before gulping loudly. He hadn’t realized he was holding back his breath.

“Come here. It’s for you.” Sakura-san nodded towards the room behind him, before moving to the rust red couch and lounging into it comfortably. Akira nodded his head, slowly pulling himself out of his shock and starting towards the couch himself. He sat down next to his caretaker, and gingerly took the bag that was offered into his lap. Fussing about it for a minute, he pulled out a small, simple gift box. Akira turned to his guardian, curiosity filling his still-dilated eyes.

“It’s for that thing we talked about, remember? Took a while but I got one I thought would suit you.” Sakura-san smirked, leaning back into the couch and relaxing. Akira took the gesture as a sign; he hadn’t even realized his own muscles were so tense. Relaxing a little, he opened the box. Inside of it was a small, dark, red-and-black bracelet. It was about an inch in width, but big enough to fit his wrist comfortably. The lattice cord that became the bracelet felt soft and smooth to the touch, and he would not put it past himself to think it cost a pretty penny. Smiling, he ran his fingers across the length again, admiring the unique design. One look back at Sakura-san had said more between them in the entire month Akira had been there than words ever could; Sakura-san was smiling; a genuine, amused, fond smile that Akira had not seen on someone, anyone in ages. He was surprised it was coming from the man beside him.

“Well, go on. Try it on for size.” Sakura-san laughed, watching patiently as Akira slipped it eagerly onto his right-hand wrist, adjusting it until it fit comfortably over the sensitive flesh. The still-pink scar was hidden flush beneath the bracelet. Akira smirked for a second, before wondering about his left wrist, which in comparison, felt grossly left out. A curious gaze at the café owner settled the matter, mostly by prompting the latter to speak.

“Looks good on you, kid. I figured,” He started, reaching out and raising the sleeve on Akira’s left arm, setting his sights on the wristwatch in the middle of it, “that we could just keep this, but, you know; move it into the right place.” Akira felt himself tense as Sakura-san gently moved the watch down his arm, readjusting it onto his wrist. The tension melted away when he realized that his guardian was being gentle, taking his time and making sure he only did as much as Akira was comfortable with the older man doing. He found himself nodding his head to Sakura-san to continue the course of action, after a gaze directed at the boy seemed to ask permission.

Akira took a look at both of his wrists, the sight of the two pieces of jewelry flowing well with one another, and covering the scars up quite nicely. He felt the blush on his cheeks flare as he caught a glance at Sakura-san, who was still smiling at him. The younger of the two had half a mind to melt into that smile. He never wanted it to go away. Akira felt his face soften even more when Sakura-san leaned forward, the smile reaching his eyes.

“That should do nicely, don’t you think?”

“Thank you, Sakura-san.” Akira smiled back.

“No problem. And it’s Sojiro, kid.” Sojiro’s hand reached up and rested itself on the back of his crooked neck, a playful tone in the air of his voice. Akira paused for a moment, fighting with his instincts of formality before settling on the suggestion.

“Thank you Sojiro. For everything.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

 _Sure it is,_ Akira smirked to himself.

” Hey, kid. I have a question.” Sojiro suddenly gestured with his thumb towards the piano in the corner of the room. Akira briefly looked over the other man’s shoulder before turning back to him.

“What is it?”

“Could you, uh, play that tune again sometime? It doesn’t have to be now but, hearing you play like that-“a soft whistle escaped the older man’s mouth, “-that’s the stuff dreams are made of kid.”

Akira blushed briefly, before nodding his head. He did love to play, and now that he knew about the hidden gem in the corner of his room, there would be no chance in hell of keeping him from it. He gave his wristwatch another caress, thinking briefly of the original owner, and stared off into space towards the piano. He missed the feeling of losing himself in a piece like he had done earlier. He supposed an audience wouldn’t bother him, as long as it was someone he trusted…

Did he trust Sojiro? He wasn’t quite sure himself, even if the man was warming up to Akira and vice versa. He peered down at the bracelet again, thinking back to his ‘episode’ just a few weeks prior. Eventually looking back towards his guardian, he felt a pang in his chest. A warm feeling spread throughout his body at the sight of the older man, smiling down at him.

And for the first time since leaving his hometown, Akira did not feel alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes, the second song is the one our boy is playing on that piano.
> 
> I thought it fit very well with the mood of the chapter. sorry if I made any of you cry, but they're tears of joy dammit!
> 
> I always thought if Akira could play an instrument, it would be the piano. Just listen to the game music for that. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy~


	4. Awake In The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the ravenette cried, allowing himself to bend and break in front of his caretaker once more as he clung to the last hope he had at sanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill by now. Right click to loop! _Read those updated Tags please_
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--gBVq2Vo94
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoy~

It had been many months since the first time Akira had found himself in the metaverse, fighting alongside his newfound friends. The experience wasn’t all that bad, considering he had gone from an ordinary high school student to an acrobatic fighter and conveyor of his own unique brand of justice within weeks. Though the various excursions he and his team had found themselves in were quite nerve-wracking and troublesome at the time, it did well to keep Akira’s mind off of other matters.

In his quest to rid himself of uneasy thoughts to prior incidents, ones where his thieving friends had not been around and knew nothing about his life before Tokyo, he found it easy to secure various part-time jobs and collect information for future changes of heart. Throwing himself into meticulous things was his one and only way to stave off the lingering voices inside of his head that _wouldn’t go away_.

But even then, he still found time to himself where, finally exhausted of every possible distraction he could have aside from sleep, and the soft breathing of his feline friend beside him, he laid upon his futon in the summer heat and the thoughts he’d been keeping at bay for nearly four months resurfaced with a fiery passion and ate away at his mind like maggots to rotting flesh.

He almost wished he had insisted on Morgana spending the night with him a little _harder_.

Akira had been so busy taking care of everyone else in his life he’d nearly forgot about his own problems. That was the _point_ of it after all. He turned in his bed and faced the piano tucked neatly into the corner of his room. Sojiro had insisted on cleaning some of the junk out of the way, for various reasons relating to the sweet piano music he would be able to hear his ward play in times he felt like making it. Significantly less cluttered and free to roam between the railing and the black sheen in the corner of the room, Akira had moved from his spot on the bed to the chair in front of the piano, resting one hand on the cover to the keys gently.

It dawned on Akira at that moment; the piano was his only true source of stress relief. Ever since his first panic attack in Leblanc all those months ago, Sojiro had been keeping a close eye on him and kept track of his various moods. Akira knew better than to hide them from Sojiro, he would just find out eventually. But between the busy schedule Akira had implemented upon himself and the day in and day out anxiety he had felt for months, the burden was beginning to feel a whole lot more noticeable on the boy’s shoulders. Keeping his various thoughts inside of his head was unhealthy--he knew that--but Akira didn’t care.

He just wanted them to stop.

“Akira.” A familiar yet distant voice spoke, and the teen whipped his head around from the piano towards the dark staircase. Nobody was there. He took a few steps forward; just enough to peer over the edge of the wooden railing and make sure no one was there. The ravenette sighed and raised his hand to his face, moving a few of his fluffy curls out of the way before he retreated back towards his bed. Of course no one was there. He must be more tired than he thought.

Curling up in the sheets of his bed, Akira attempted to go to sleep. But the various thoughts running through his head kept him awake. _Why_ would his parents do that to him? Why had they tried to kill him when he did the right thing? A mixture of feelings swelled up inside of him, mostly anger at his parents for having though up such a thing, and then the slight longing and fear he felt when thinking about his father in particular.

He had loved his father dearly, but as soon as Kazuko had held him beneath the water Akira felt nothing but fear from the man. His own father had tried to kill him; his own _son_ … The more the ravenette thought about it the more his mind twisted and contoured to every subtle emotion. Did his father ever really love him? Did he ever actually care for Akira? His heart felt heavy with a thousand different kinds of pressure and the tips of his fingers had gone numb as he tried his best to curl into the bed sheets below him.

Therefore, when he heard a voice whisper into his ear, it took him a few seconds longer than normal to go flying off of the bed with his heart pounding in his ears.

“You’re so close Akira…” the sick, sweet way the voice uttered those words made Akira’s stomach turn as he darted his eyes around the room, searching desperately for the figure of his father.

“What?” The confused and clearly tired teen asked, turning around to search the other half of the room as the small chuckles of laughter rang out to his right.

“You’re on the right track, kiddo. “ Again the voice sneered, slithering its way underneath Akira’s skin and causing him to unconsciously grip at his forearms. They crossed in front of himself as he turned once more, sure there was nobody in the room with him but alas he could still hear the voice.

“Can’t you sense that you’re right?” The voice faded into a blur of a man. Dark eyes and ebony hair greeted Akira as he stood in the center of the room, brow furrowed as he tried his best to make sense of the words. Was he right? Did his father ever love him? Exhausted as he was he couldn’t focus on the words properly, he could only focus on the fact an apparition of his father was standing before him, snickering.

“Go away.” The young teen whispered, backing up and pulling further into himself as the image of Kazuko laughed lightly and took one step forward.

“Can’t do that, or else you won’t get the message.”When Akira felt the footstep reverberate through the hardwood floor he took a step back, eyes cautiously focusing on the figment of his imagination in front of himself. It snickered.

“What message? There’s nothing left to be said; you’re not real.” When the figure laughed once more he opted to ignore it, instead turning towards the piano in the corner and making a bee-line to the chair in front of it. The young thief closed his eyes and inhaled a shaky breath when he sat down, feeling the eyes of the apparition watching his every move. He hastily came up with a piece to play and hoped that by focusing on his work that his mind would push the illusion of his father from itself and allow him some form of peace.

“Aha. So that’s what you keep telling yourself.” Kazuko stood behind the chair as Akira started to play, his mind tired but alert as he felt the presence behind him shift on the balls of its feet.

Instead of replying the teen continued to tap keys along the keyboard, going for a slower pace than normal due to the time of night and the flurry of emotions he had coursing through him. With every keystroke there was another emotion to be carried out; Confusion at his parents for their actions, anger that they had done the deed at all, and sadness at the thought of their current fate…

 _Suffering_.

Akira was suffering.

He felt overwhelmingly miserable in his current state. Akira would probably never see his parents again. The thought of it stung his aching heart and pulled slowly, agonizingly at already open wounds. The ravenette could almost feel the stretch of his skin being torn apart as their razor blades dug into the pale flesh and sliced through-

 _No_. No, he wasn’t going to think about this. Long had the slow and calm melody turned into a powerful, eerie force as his fingers kept with the piano keys. The presence behind himself shifted once more, and he thought for a second that he felt a hot breath on the back of his neck.

It made him shiver.

“I don’t like being ignored, Akira. You know better than this.” The dangerous way the words left his pseudo-father’s mouth caused Akira to turn his head to the side, eyes closed as he tried to continue with the piece of music before him. It was difficult to concentrate when his mind wouldn’t let go of his past. The music before him was unsteady at best and he couldn’t help but end the piece and try and start it anew.

When the overbearing form leaned in closer and huffed a sigh of anger at the teen’s actions, the thief felt the need to stop playing and jump up from his chair, nearly knocking it backwards as he turned towards the form and glared at it in anger.

“Go away! Stop trying to get under my skin already!” Akira practically yelled, his heart on fire and eyes burning with the flames as the figure chuckled darkly and kept its ice-cold stare upon the pale teen. His skin only appeared lighter in the fading moonlight, and though his heart pounded and he felt a flush arise to his face from the heat his body was making, he felt the light from the window didn’t do him any justice as the apparition reached a hand out towards the ravenette.

“I’ve already told you-“Kazuko started, before Akira took a bold step forward, trying to prove to the figure he wouldn’t be able to do anything.

“You’re not _real_!” Akira screamed at the figure, eyes glaring defiantly before the illusion placed its hand onto his son’s shoulder, gripping tightly. When Akira flinched and his eyes widened in shock, the apparition smirked.

“Look at that. I thought you said I wasn’t real…”Kazuko drawled, allowing his firm grip to linger before caressing the side of his sons face. The fingers were cold and piercing into his skin, or so Akira had thought. The corners of his eyes began to wet and he let out an almost inaudible whimper before the hand left his face. Only one second had passed before Akira was running down the stairs, aiming to leave the café and go straight to Sojiro’s house. He knew it was early in the morning but his guardian would be understanding of the matter.

The teen had been so focused on attempting to run towards the front door that he barreled into something on the way across the floor, causing him to stumble backwards and shake his head in his hands as he wondered what in the hell he had run into. When his mind cleared and he looked upwards, the smirking, causally laughing man above him caused him to gasp and take a step backwards.

Only, when his foot was about to press against the floor, Kazuko grabbed Akira by his right wrist and lurched him forward, entangling the terrified teen in his arms as he flailed. The pressure around his torso was almost crushing, and he tried his best to breathe through the panic but he could already feel the rush of memories flooding back into the forefront of his mind. Again the illusion--was it really an illusion?—chuckled and kept its grip tight as the thief pushed into its chest and whimpered.

“You’re not going anywhere. Nobody will be able to help you.” One of the man’s hands ran up his sons back, resting in the mess of ebony curls and caressing them soothingly, an unwilling mewl escaping the horrified teen’s lips as he was forced to look up into his father’s cold eyes.

“No! No, this isn’t, it c-can’t be…”Akira tried to speak, only for the grip in his hair to tighten and produce a wince from his throat. The figure smiled at this, leaning forward so he was almost completely towering over the shaking form below him.

“You’re _a l o n e_ , Akira. It’s just us two here; inside of your head, inside your reckless excuse for a _life_. Nobody understands you like I do, and nobody loathes your existence like I do. Just give into me, kiddo. You know it’s what you want…”The figure trailed off, having leaned next to Akira’s ear to whisper most of the infectious words like a plague in his soul. The ravenette closed his eyes and winced when his hair was pulled back, tugging him backwards as long, slender fingers wrapped around his throat and pressed down like clamps. Tears had started to fall when he was panicking, flailing uselessly and clawing at the hands gripping tightly into his flesh.

A noise—weather it was a chuckle or a satisfied huff, Akira did not know—flitted out into the room and the teen gasped, trying desperately to gather air into his burning lungs. The screaming tissue and the constant stream of static noise his mind was making only intensified the struggle as various garbled, choked noises rang from the child’s mouth. Again that noise resounded into the air, content with the struggling, crying form in front of itself. Akira managed to gather enough breath as he dug his feet into the floor and pulled backwards, a half-scream, half-sob echoing into the air as the fingers gripped tighter and cut off airflow entirely.

For several seconds, Akira wondered if he was going to die. It wasn’t like he hadn’t come ridiculously close before, and he started to wonder if he would soon become numb to the pain like he did in the bath as his scarlet blood stained the beige walls a candy red color…

As fast as the attack came, it was over, and Akira was left crumpled on the floor as the first rays of sunlight shone into the café, casting soft orange light upon his gasping, coughing form. The teen felt winded beyond belief, and in his panicking mind he crawled behind the counter of the cafe and pushed his back against the low-rise shelves and shivered, searching for some semblance of safety. Again his mind reeled, and he realized his hands hurt terribly before he noticed they were wrapped around his throat in a half-clutch before he ripped them away from himself and sobbed.

Horrified. That was the only way to describe what Akira was feeling. Was his father ever really there? Had he been trying to kill himself subconsciously? Another strangled sob tore from his sore and abused throat as he curled into himself, shaking and whimpering as footsteps rounded the corner of the counter, and the ravenette shut his eyes tight and buried his head into his knees, gripping his fingers harshly into his thighs as his arms wrapped like wire around his legs.

“Akira? Hey, what happened?” The familiar voice of his caretaker rattled in his ears and he couldn’t help the muffled sob that it caused to leap out into the room. He hadn’t even heard the door to Leblanc open. Sojiro was crouching beside him when the thief chanced a glance to the side.

Worry and concern etched into the well-known crinkles in the older man’s face, eyes furrowed and his glasses reflecting the early morning sunlight as Akira wrapped his arms around the man and cried. Soothing hands ran warm circles around his back as the teen wept, clutching to Sojiro like his last lifeline to the real world. Akira had never been so happy to see him before. It almost made the whole experience feel like a dream.

And so the ravenette cried, allowing himself to bend and break in front of his caretaker once more as he clung to the last hope he had at sanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know I said it shouldn't get any darker than the first chapter. Whoops.  
> But seriously this is about the end of the dark shit here.  
> Thank you for reading!


	5. For What's to Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but needed. Sorry for the long wait, procrastination is a bitch.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DP_FPgb1eiU (instrumental)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h1c6fiCcveA (lyric)

The atmosphere of the clinic was never really Akira’s favorite. The smell of sterile cleaners were almost raw against his throat. Blindingly bright lights reflected off his glasses the wrong way and made him squint, taking them off with a huff afterwards. Occasionally, the teen could hear the paper that was laid out on the exam table crinkle beneath him, breaching the frequent sounds of a pen scribbling across paper or the quick, consistent typing of keys. The long wait for directions, taking a medical concoction that no one exactly knew would do to his body. It was exactly this kind of atmosphere that brought a sense of anxiousness to the ravenette.

Sometimes it was fun to think of all the different outcomes a drug could affect him. Would he awake this time, hours after the experiment began, just to find he couldn’t remember a thing? Or would he remember blurs and faint, nonsensical conversations? He imagined that was what it felt like to be drunk. In medical terms, he probably was. But sometimes the drugs wouldn’t do much of anything. Akira would take them and feel some sort of minor discomfort, maybe a sting here or there, or an ache or two. Those ones were far less fun, and much less desirable.

After all, if he was conscious and without a real distraction, he could remember things he didn’t want to.

But here the teen sat, not for the deal he made with Tae Takemi. There was no need of more medical supplies for the thieves. It also was not one of his scheduled days for the drug trial. No, he sat in this room and all of its thick, heavy atmosphere with great annoyance and irritated look on his face. Akira hadn’t chosen to be here today. And as the almond-eyed doctor sat across from him, scrawling on her notepad with vigor and having not once set her gaze upon his form since he’d begrudgingly sat down, the thief couldn’t wait to leave. He was impatient, agitated, and tapping his foot away on the floor all the while starring at his physician only seemed to make time flow slower. If he had known Sojiro was going to drag him to the clinic for reasons he _didn’t_ want to discuss, then he would have snuck out his attic room window before ever setting foot in the café that morning.

The scratching of the pen stopped, and almond eyes connected to his slate ones. Takemi sat like she usually did, crossing one leg over the other in her chair. Her right hand with the pen came up from the paper and lightly tapped her cheek for a moment or two, humming before she began to speak.

“So, you’ve been having nightmares as of late, correct?” Akira immediately frowned and held back a sigh, slightly wishing Sakura-san would just butt out of the matter.

“Nothing I can’t handle, Doc.” She rolled the sleek black tube around in her fingers, pursing her lips ever so slightly.

“That’s not what your guardian said.”The teen nearly rolled his eyes, instead choosing to look towards where his hands rested in his lap.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about.”

 

 

“Does ‘fine’ include having a panic attack in the middle of the day?  Don’t run from me. You’re not one to hide when it’s a serious matter, and you acting like this isn’t important won’t get you out of this room faster. It’s no secret you don’t want to be here.”

“And what gave you that idea?”The ravenette nearly spat out, voice full of his trademark sarcasm as he tapped his shoe on the edge of the exam table. Takemi simply sighed and put her notepad to the side, leaning forward in her chair to better face the teen with a slightly concerned look.

“Listen, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it, and I’m no therapist; I don’t claim to be one either. Normally if my patients are showing signs of mental illness I recommend them to a good friend of mine, who _is_ a therapist. I’m only here right now out of common courtesy to your guardian, and because I _care_ about you, Akira. You’re not just a patient to me. You’re a friend as well.” The teen couldn’t help the sigh that leaked into the air, and he crossed his legs, setting his hands on either side of him and flattening them on the table before looking into her eyes.

“Then as your friend, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to a shrink either.” This time it was Takemi’s turn to sigh, but she retained her demeanor and straightened in the chair.

“Fine. You don’t have to talk to me, or a therapist. But you need to talk to someone, kid. Someone you trust. Those things that are going through your mind, the emotions and feelings, whatever it is it will come out one way or another. And you can either do it in a healthy manner, or wait for something with a worse outcome to happen. I’m no stranger to your medical history, Akira. Why do you think I never asked you about the scars?” The thief gritted his teeth together, frustration pounding through his veins as he gripped the table hard. Of course she knew. She had always known, ever since he agreed to become her ‘guinea pig’. He wasn’t ignorant to that. But he was grateful she had never brought it up. Now, the teen almost wished he hadn’t agreed to her deal all those months ago.

And all this about talking to someone he ‘ _trusts_ ’. Trust is what got him into this mess in the first place. If he hadn’t trusted his parents with his life then he wouldn’t even be sitting here right now! If he hadn’t placed trust in the _wrong_ people…no, he couldn’t think about this right now. His hand was starting to ache just from how hard he was digging his fingers into the padding of the table. He had to get out of there, fast.

“If I say I’ll think about it, can I go?” Some of her teal bangs swayed as she tilted her head in irritation. Her eyes darkened in hue, but still she kept his attention. She waited no more than a moment to reply.

“If you promise to talk to someone when you’re ready, then yes.” Akira wasn’t even fully off the table when she continued. “Here, these are going with you.” She had stood from her desk and walked over to the door that connected the exam room with the pharmacy, opening it only to disappear within the room for a few seconds. She returned with a white paper bag, holding it out to the ravenette with her usual unreadable look of sass. He looked it over for a second, pondering, before reluctantly taking it in his hand.

“For your anxiety; something new I’ve mixed up. Take one before bed at night. It should help keep those nightmares at bay.” He went to open the exam room door to leave, but a tug in his hand told him she hadn’t yet let go of the bag. He turned and found himself making eye contact as she continued.

“Don’t think of this as a solution to your problem. I’ll be checking in on you soon enough between trial sessions. Is that clear?” This time, he only just barely held back from rolling his eyes, instead sighing audibly before being let go of.

“Crystal.” Akira muttered as he left the room, making his way out of the clinic in stride and wondering how in the _hell_ he was going to deal with this.

It became a little clearer that night, starring at a pill as he rolled the smooth yellow tablet between his fingers, a fresh steaming cup of coffee being slid in front of him.

Akira was in his lounge wear, sitting at one of the barstools nearest the coffee equipment, Sojiro standing across from him with an almost expectant look. Waiting. Perhaps to take the pill, perhaps to watch as the boy dropped it to the floor, who knew? But the teen just eyed the coffee, slouching into a slump as he put most of his weight on his left arm that rested on the counter. A small grimace was surfacing on his face, and he could hear a subtle rough huff from the man above him.

He already knew what was going to be said. So right as the café-owner began to talk, Akira cut him off by grasping the ceramic cup and downing the pill in a few gulps. Silence followed as the cup was returned to the saucer, the ravenette refusing to look up from the bar and could only imagine the motion of Sojiro’s hand resting on his waist with a sigh.

“It’s only going to help, kid.” The mocking scoff Akira laughed out was words enough, but he was in the mood to take it further.

“Help? Yeah, sure, forcing me to see Takemi this morning was just ‘helping’ too, wasn’t it?” He finally raised his angered gaze to the guardian, who returned his own irritated one.

“Well you weren’t going to do it yourself. Besides, playing that piano isn’t going to change things. All of this stuff you get into outside of school and being here, the jobs, whatever it is you go off and do with your friends is all temporary.”

“Temporary or not, at least they’re not sending me to a therapist about it!”The ravenette found himself to be raising his voice far louder than he liked, but he didn’t care. Sojiro just returned the fiery gaze with his own stubborn flare.

“And what’s so bad about talking it out with a professional!? You know better than anyone that what you’re going through isn’t normal, having panic attacks and nightmares! How many more times am I going to come here and find you crying on the floor, scared out of your mind! How can I help you when you won’t even talk to me about it?”The thief barred his teeth, leaping out of his seat and slamming his hands down on the counter with an audible _smack_.

“Because nobody _understands!_ How can anybody understand what it feels like to _trust_ someone for so long, so deeply and then they turn around and use it to cut your wrists open like a pig for slaughter! How can anyone understand, even _begin_ to think how their own parents would just murder them for some sick and twisted reasoning that they would be better off _dead_! How can you understand what it feels like to almost die and _wish_ that you had stayed dead…?” Akira had long since started to sob, crossing his arms on the bar and sinking into his seat as Sojiro stood there, silent. Hiccups and whimpers filled the café and the scent of salt was rich in the teen’s nose. Footsteps could be heard, faintly rounding the counter before closing in behind the teen. The guardian settled into the bar seat next to his ward, and after a few more moments Akira raised his head just enough to chance a look at the older man.

Deep set wrinkles cast shadows across Sojiro’s face, but his eyes were visible in the light. Soft, charcoal irises gave nothing but patience as the teen saw a hand reached out, a bar towel being offered to him.

Silently, Akira straightened himself just enough to return to his usual slouch, taking the towel with a shaky hand before wiping away the tears that were still running down his face. The café owner made an almost hesitating gesture with his hand, motioning for the thief to lean in closer. He did so, and welcomed the warm embrace of a tight hug, not wanting to escape the touch or run away.

“It’s alright. Everything will be alright.” It took a few tries to push past the hiccups for the ashen-eyed teen to form a reply.

“H-How do you know? How can you say t-that?” A simple laugh came from above him, and he tilted his head in confusion before he heard an explanation.

“Because you’re one tough kid, Akira. You’ll get through this. Just remember there are people who are here to help with it.” The fresh cascade of tears brought with them more sobs, and the ravenette just clung to his guardian, riding out the release until he was too tired to stay awake any longer.


End file.
